Flint and Tinder
by Morgenn
Summary: Lightning is an upstanding Sergeant who's putting her ungrateful sister through school. Lightning finds Serah's been on a dating app and of course she's pissed; what decent person would be on that? But somehow she's roped into trying it for a week, and when Light matches with Fang, an actual, normal human being, maybe she has to rethink things. #ModernAU #Flight


**2020, Oct 24 Important announcement:** This is a re-upload on the story. I've added more details in and around the early chapters. SO, don't fret, all chapters beyond this point will be re-released once more, one at a time so that I don't spam the hell out of the few readers who are following along. Hopefully, this does mean it's a more enjoyable read.

* * *

"At ease," Lightning spoke.

A squad of sixteen men and women who had been jogging in steady rhythm returned to resting position, adjusting themselves into uniform rows.

It was a foggy start of a day; the air was so frigid that hot breaths could be seen pluming from the men's lips. The Drill Sergeant commanded her new recruits in the early morning, putting them through rough physical training at the Bodhum Guardian Corps base. Displeased with the progress that she was seeing, she tossed her clipboard on the floor with a sigh.

The soldiers flinched at the impact.

"That may have been the worst effort that I've seen so far," she said, walking in between the soldiers.

She paused.

"Recruits," Lightning spoke, her voice pleasant on the ears but dissonant with the rough grip in its handling. Her soldiers anticipated her every word; one wasn't sure when the next would be a bait or the switch.

"Yes ma'am!" They responded in unison.

Lightning regarded the man she was next to with cool indifference. "For recruit Connors's attempt to slack off on the pushups, you'll all be running fifteen more laps around the barracks before breakfast this morning."

Sweat rolled down his cheek, already reddened from exertion.

"Yes ma'am!"

She could see some faces scrunching up in annoyance. If eyes could turn any more than they could, Lightning had no doubt they would be all on this particular one who pursed his lips in nervous energy.

"Give me thirty right now, Connors," she said. "Make that, all of you." Civilian life always celebrated the individual. But in here, conformity meant survival of the group of the entire troop.

"Yes ma'am!" the recruits dropped to the floor and began counting off their push ups in earnest. "One! Two!"

Light stood next to Connors. Thought the sun had not even reached high noon, the shadow of her figure was formidable. None of the male soldiers did anyway, but if Connors had hair it would have grazed her oiled and shined leather boots. "I should see dirt on your mouth like you've kissed your mother."

"—Six, yes," the recruit coughed in between, "Yes ma'am! Seven!"

While they continued, she walked back to the clipboard that had been discarded onto the floor.

"—Fifteen, sixteen—,"

Lightning raised her voice over the thunderous multitudes of shouts. "Recruits, you work as a team and you face the consequences as a team." Dissent was disastrous. Obedience was crucial for the cohesion of her troops.

"—Twenty, twenty one—,"

"On thirty, you will start running for your lives."

"—Twenty four, twenty five—,"

"If I don't see you all in T plus twenty, consider running all the way until chow time."

"—Thirty!"

"Begin," Lightning announced on cue and began the lull of a cadence.

_What are the hell are we runnin' for, hey?_

At her command, the men and women began a steady thunderous pace onto the concrete path once more, responding

_Up jumped a monkey from a coconut grove._

When the dust finally cleared, she picked up her paperwork. She could overhear a voice in the midst of thunderous boots hitting the dirt.

Etro fuck all, Connors, thanks for smoking us out.

Lightning smiled.

It was just another day of work for her, inducting recruits into the Guardian Corps life. One day they'd see the values she was instilling to them. But for now, they were going to get some hell.

_He was a bad mother fucker, you could tell by his clothes._

_x_

_x_

_x_

"Pancakes?" Fang proposed. She swiped left on her phone with a practiced motion, repeatedly.

By the time the afternoon had hit, winter approached Bodhum with a light powdering of new snow. In a change of pace, the city turned its activities indoors while it awaited the true blankets of white to cover the landscape. Though occasional pedestrians walked on the sidewalks with their hoods up, Downtown Bodhum's streets were barren of people.

The clouds created a blue overcast whose spell were broken in pockets of warm inviting light streaming out from the broad windows of shops. Perfect weather for staying in.

The neighborhood had newly constructed mixed use buildings with restaurants on the first floor and apartments on the top. Fang lived in one such building with exposed red brick in a loft on the corner of Main and Alexandr. Far from the streets down below on the sixth floor, she and her roommate chatted under knotted wool throw blankets on the couch.

Vanille shook her head, flipping through her recipe book. Her red curls brushed along her shoulders. "We've had pancakes two days ago and last night."

"I want breakfast food even if it's one in the morning." Fang declared. "What else comes with syrup and butter?"

"A salad," said Vanille. She gave up and left the book on the mahogany coffee table in favor of the phone as well.

"Ha-ha." Swipe. "Toss the idea of rabbit food. I am not on a diet."

"Etro," said the younger woman, "Please help this lazy soul get whipped into some shape."

Fang beamed a winner's smile as she patted her sweatered abdomen. 'Royal Flush' was splashed over the chest. "I'm ripped, remember?"

"Yes, dear," Vanille laughed, "I haven't forgotten you punch people for a living. But please, back to the topic at hand. Avocado toast?" A phone was promptly shoved into her personal space which showed the profile of a man in a clean three piece suit.

"Fang!" Vanille disapproved. She attempted to swat Fang's hand away.

"You asked about food."

Vanille shoved Fang's thigh with light kicks. "Not the people on your phone. Real food. Breakfast."

"Of course I know what you mean."

Last one, though." Fang held her offensive device closer. "Thoughts?"

"No." Vanille made an X with her forearms.

"Argh," groused Fang before she tossed the phone aside and leaned into her palm. "How about hashbrowns?"

Vanille opened her mouth to say something. She thought for a moment. "Only if…"

"Done."

"You didn't ever hear what I was going to say."

"Done and done. Hashbrowns it is." Fang had a niggling thought that she was going to regret this later. She shook the feeling away and took Vanille's phone out of her hands. "You're paying."

x

x

x

Serah Farron was a second year student at Bresha University, the local college of the island. While Serah chose to study history, she liked to indulge in a few creative classes here and there, hence her enrollment in an ART 130: Ceramics I course.

Her sister Lightning was not going to be going to school any time soon, she had said in the past; Serah was the only one she'd thought to give her GI bill to. Given that and her excellent grades, Serah had any school of her choice in the palm of her hands.

In front of her was her clay pot that she finished. It was ready to join the other works waiting for the kiln in the first firing process. It was a peaceful respite to the stacks of textbooks required for her major. Right across the table was Noel Kriss, her first friend she had made at freshman orientation. He was a departure from her usual set of friends, mostly an irresponsible bunch from high school, which was fine by her.

It so happened that Serah liked the life here (that plus the fact that this was her hometown), and she chose the school more on the basis of intending to stay there at least for a little while longer. When one was the family of the Guardian Corps soldier, one expected to hop around the world every so often. The school wasn't all that bad anyway, in fact it was one of the better ones in Cocoon, and Bodhum was by no means a sleepy town.

That was all to say that Serah had received a full ride at the school. Nothing much else about it.

The bell rang.

"That's all the time we have left," announced the ceramics professor. She pat her hands dry on the dusty black apron she had on. "The coiled clay project is due next week in our next class meeting. The studio will be always open, so please don't hesitate to ask me if there's a question."

Serah stretched and gathered her excess clay into one mound. While some classmates had already started to shuffle between the rows towards the exit, she took her time in organizing her things.

On Tuesdays, she had the the rest of the day off after lunch until her evening class at six in the evenings. Serah liked to take her time when possible. She lifted up her piece gingerly to place on the shelves. Noel followed suit.

"So," Noel asked, "how's it going with this new boy so far?"

"What date?" Serah feigned.

"Serah," declared Noel. "As if I wouldn't know what was going on with you." He much too sharp for her own good, if she had anything to say about him.

Serah placed her pot amongst the others. It looked pristine amongst the more prepubescent like dexterity of her peers. One had to note that her participation was one of the more sincere in the class. "Not so loud," she lowered her voice between the two of them. Free to now use her hands as she pleased, Serah jabbed a damp finger onto Noel's handsome forehead. "You'd let the whole campus know with that volume."

He frowned at the intrusion and quickly set down his own project. As dedicated as he was to the class as well, his clay sculpting was a ways off from looking anywhere as clean as Serah's. "The only one who'd care is Lightning."

"Oh yes," she said monotone. "That one."

"'That one' is scary."

"Don't worry," Serah said, "You get used to her."

"I almost peed my pants the last time I talked to her." Noel said, unimpressed with her flippant attitude. "You're her sister, that's different."

Well, the upside to having a drill sergeant for a family member is that you get real good at not getting cowed. Besides, she doesn't know half the things I do. Snow is—,"

Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket. Lightning.

"—Speak of the devil. I have to take a call."

"That's the thing that scares me for you," said Noel as Serah walked to pick up her call outside. "She's going to kill you."

The cold open air of the campus immediately stung Serah's exposed face.

"Hi sis!"

"Hey. I'm going to be home tonight," said Lightning. She had duties to attend to and slept at the barracks frequently. It came with the territory of working at a small Guardian Corps station, Lightning had explained once. Serah didn't quite believe her. Other soldiers still came home more frequently than she did, grunts or commanding officers. "Did you want me to pick anything up for you on the way?"

"Actually, I was planning on going out. I didn't think you'd be home." Vanille could imagine the disapproval that she already saw coming.

"Hm. Where?"

"Lake Bresha."

"For what?"

"I'm just going to be watching a movie."

"With who?"

"Myself."

"Clearly that is the case," replied Lightning and repeated, "with who?"

"Is that the time?" Serah said hurriedly, "I've got to get going, I'm meeting Noel for lunch. Talk to you later!"

There was a pause. "I'll see you at home." The call disconnected.

Back inside the studio, Noel was sitting at his stool alone and kicking at the empty air; everyone else had left.

He stopped when he heard her approach. "So?"

"Three things," she stated, walking to her work station. "My sister's coming home. I've a date with Snow Villiers tonight…,"

He nodded.

"…And my sister does not know."

"Oh no."

Yes, Serah thought. That summed it up quite well.


End file.
